The Tombs of Eden

by Rick Jones

  Hall stood on the highest knoll closest to the dig site. He no longer had interest in the site once he learned that Eden existed, considering Göbekli Tepe as nothing more than ancient stones pieced together. The carved bas-relief he surreptitiously received from Noah as a nominal fee for providing the grant, the one-time treasure, was now considered worthless since Göbekli Tepe was no longer unique. Eden had pre-dated this site by two thousand years, making it the new treasure trove of goods to pull from.

  He inhaled the dry air and looked skyward where pinpricks of lights winked back at him. With a keen eye, he found and traced the myriad of constellations, positive that they favored him with their celestial positioning—positive that he would be pulled in by the same celestial arms of inviting grace the moment he stood upon the threshold of Eden.

  And then Eden would be his.

  Once he had all that could be had, he would order the dispatching of Ms. Moore and her entire group, including Noah; all loose ends, and then chalk the mishap up as another horrifying tragedy.

  #

  “It’ll be all right,” Noah said, trying his best to placate Alyssa who paced about her tent like a worried cat. “They’re boys at play. But when things become most critical, then that’s when they are at their best.”

  “Noah, they’re mercenaries.”

  He cast his eyes downward. “I had no choice.”

  “You keep saying that.” She went to the tent flap and peeled it back. The circle by the fire was quiet as Obsidian Hall spoke to his team. What he was saying, however, she couldn’t hear, so she let the flap fall back. “I’m not comfortable with this, Noah.”

  “I know.”

  “How could you possibly come to know a man like Obsidian Hall?”

  “When your father was denied the grant, and nobody else bothered, Mr. Hall called me.”

  “So you gave in, knowing who he was but not caring?”

  “But you should have seen the smile on your father’s face when I told him that we were funded. I’ve never seen your father so happy.”

  Her anger melted away. “Neither have I,” she said. “I remember. It was all he could talk about.”

  “To me, Alyssa, it was worth it. And yes, Mr. Hall and his team may be annoying, but unfortunately, we need them.”

  “And now I have to contend with that priest, since the Vatican is willing to front future grants on what they determine to be sacred matters.”

  “He’s not a priest,” he corrected.

  “Whatever.” She continued to pace with her arms folded across her ample bosom.

  “Are you still angry with me? Is that what this is about?”

  She stopped and looked at him—saw the hangdog look that was as much a part of his features as his uptown-English clip. “Noah, I’m not angry with you.” She went to him, leaned over and kissed his wide forehead. “You’re my Rock of Gibraltar,” she told him. “True, I’m not happy with Hall, you know that.”

  He nodded.

  “But you have the most wonderful heart of any man I know and I never want you to change that.” She kissed him again, then resumed her pacing. “I’m just anxious, that’s all.”

  “Tomorrow is going to be the biggest day of your life. You should be anxious.”

  “Was my father like this, Noah? Was he crazy the night before, saying it was the biggest day of his life?”

  “Yes and no,” he said. “Your father paced like you did, couldn’t contain his excitement. But he always said that finding Eden was the second biggest day in his life.”

  She stopped pacing. “There was a bigger day than the discovery of Eden?”

  He raised his forefinger. “Just one,” he said. “The day you were born.”

  Her face assembled into a glowing half-smile, so she went to him and fell into his lap and into his embrace. “I miss him so much,” she said, her words muffled against his shirt.

  “I know, my dear, which makes this journey most imperative. Obsidian Hall may not be the most ethical man of character, but he will keep us safe while we continue on for your father. What we do, we don’t do for ourselves,” he told her. “We do this for him.”

  She pulled back, her face calm. “As my father’s closest friend, I want you to be the first to step inside.”

  He shook his head. “No, no, my dear, it’s up to you to maintain your father’s legacy. That right belongs to you.”

  She let her head fall slowly back into the crook of his neck and shoulder. “Thank you, Noah.”

  “For what?”

  “For being you,” she said.

  He smiled and patted her gingerly on her back. “Up now,” he said. “Time for bed since tomorrow’s going to be a long day, albeit an exciting one,” he said, easing her to her feet so he could stand on his own. They walked to the door and peeled back the flaps. Obsidian Hall was no longer standing by the fire, neither were the members of his team, with the exception of one man, who sat with his assault weapon leaning against the block stone beside him. “See? What did I tell you? Just boys getting it out of their systems,” he told her. “No need to worry.”

  She patted him on the arm. “Goodnight, Noah. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight, my dear. And Godspeed.”

  As she watched him walk toward his tent, she noted the man by the fire ogling him with watchdog intensity. Once Noah was safely inside, she closed the flaps and tied them. And though she went to bed with every intention of getting a good night’s rest, sleep never came.

  As she lay there staring upward with her eyes wide open and her mind racing, she sighed.

  Tomorrow was not going to be a new beginning, she considered, but an extended day that was started by her father.

  It’s all for you, Dad.

  She couldn’t help the genuine smile that was forming at the corners of her lips.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Göbekli Tepe

  Early Following Morning

  If any morning could be considered darkly ominous, this was it. The sky was battleship gray and the air had the feel of dreary dampness.

  When Alyssa left her tent, she did so wearing a yellow windbreaker. It was the first time she had worn it since the conditions finally merited it. Hall’s commandos wore uniforms in the color scheme of desert camouflage. Slung over the shoulder of each man was an MP-7 assault weapon, a blunted version of a submachine gun.

  Noah, despite the chill, wore shorts with cargo pockets, carried a backpack, and couldn’t have been happier, judging by the smile. Standing next to him were two senior archeologists from the Istanbul Institute, one male, one female, late twenties, both matching Noah’s dress of cargo shorts and backpack.

  The Vatican emissary, however, had no dress other than what he had walked into camp with—which was the black cleric shirt, pants, and Roman Catholic collar. The shirt was un-tucked, the tails extending to the mid-thigh region; the five o’clock shadow thicker and darker. The man looked as if he was coming off a binge.

  The commandos chortled at Savage’s appearance and then Aussie pointed the weapon at him in a non-threatening manner. “Is that all you got, Padre?”

  “It’s all I need.”

  More laughter. What they didn’t see was the Glock concealed by the tails of Savage’s shirt. “Whatever, Padre.”

  Obsidian, wearing exclusive casual wear with the creases of his white pants ruler-straight, a cream-colored Oxford shirt, and white loafers, joined the group. The backpack he carried was crafted of the finest Corinthian leather.

  “Are you kiddin’ me, mate?” Aussie laughed in concert with his teammates. “You look like you’re going on vacation.”

  Obsidian smiled beneath his sunglasses. “You have no idea,” he said.

  Alyssa looked at Hall, and then at the clouded sky. Is he wearing sunglasses to look cool? And then: “Are we all here?” she asked.

  “It looks that way, my dear,” said Noah.

  There were ten in all, the same number in her father’s team,
an ominous number for sure. But she had not counted on the emissary.

  “Is that all you’re taking, Mr. Savage?”

  Again: “It’s all I need.”

  While the commandos laughed, she looked at him differently. Savage appeared sad and detached—his unkemptness a key symbol of feeling indifference. “Are you all right?” she asked him.

  He smiled his patented false grin of congeniality. “Everything’s fine,” he told her.

  “Then perhaps you’d like to ride with me to the site?”

  “I’d enjoy that,” he told her. His patented smile never left.

  She nodded approval at his acceptance. She wanted Savage to ride with her group along with Noah and the two Turkish archeologists, neither of whom could speak English, with Hall and his team the follow-up.

  She turned to Hall, who looked out of place. Does he not think that he’s going to get dirty? “Mr. Hall, is your team ready?”

  He turned to Butcher Boy, who nodded. “We’re ready,” he said.

  For the next six hours, as they flew to Eden in separate helicopters, everyone in Alyssa’s group was chatty with the exception of John Savage, who stared out of the chopper window at the approaching tempest. She could not take her eyes off him.

  Along with the man’s sadness was a certain inner quiet, she considered; a strength. But she couldn’t quite figure out the type of strength, the man was a puzzle. She knew that he was aware of her watching him but he blatantly ignored her, more intent on the distant clouds. Yet he was still handsome, she considered, despite the need for a shave and the dirt smudges soiling his shirt and Roman Catholic collar.

  “I would think you’d be more excited!” she yelled over the rotors.

  He turned to her and smiled. It was so obvious to her that it wasn’t real. “I am,” he said. “Just thinking, that’s all.” And this was the truth. By leaning against the interior of the chopper, he could feel the outline of his Glock pressing against his back.

  “About what?”

  About how and when I’m going to kill you. “Just . . . things,” he told her.

  She reached across and grabbed his hand, more out of sympathy for a man who seemed to be filled with great sadness than anything else. He nearly reacted by pulling it away, but didn’t. He let it rest as she embraced it, her hand as gentle as silk.

  “Whatever it is, Mr. Savage, it’ll be all right!” she said intuitively.

  Was he showing her something?

  “Yes!” he said. “I know!” And then: “There’s a solution for everything!”

  When she released his hand, he flexed his fingers, sensing a wonderful strangeness in the aftermath of her touch. He looked at her and she smiled; a most beautiful smile, he considered, against the framework of a most beautiful face.

  And when he smiled back, it was very real, prompting her to give him a thumbs-up. “Now that’s more like it!” she cried.

  And for that brief moment—in that little snippet of time—he felt good. He turned to Noah, an older man who appeared happy as he spoke to the seniors from the Istanbul Institute over the notes regarding the Göbekli Tepe site. He saw their unbridled enthusiasm and listened to their laughter. He used to laugh like that, he recalled, when he was courting his girlfriend, who later became his wife, the woman now living with another man and raising children together.

  His smile quickly faded.

  And he turned to look out the window to see the second chopper flying adjacent to them.

  #

  Inside the second chopper, Obsidian Hall held a briefing with his team.

  “Eden? The biblical Eden?” Butcher Boy appeared amazed, not sure if Obsidian Hall was spinning a tale or telling the truth.

  “Is there another?” he returned.

  “The bloody Garden of Eden?” asked Aussie, leaning forward so that he could be heard over the rotor blades.

  “Except it isn’t much of a garden anymore,” he told him, “but rather a desert plain.”

  “So our mission is to protect you from what?” asked Red.

  “It’s twofold, actually,” he began. “One: there is something inside that’s not too friendly to those not indigenous to its territory.”

  “Like what?” asked Carroll.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it? It appears that nobody knows for sure! Whatever it is, I want it dead if comes anywhere near us!”

  “And two?” asked Butcher Boy.

  “And two: It’s believed that there are tombs within. And what is a constant in every tomb?”

  Aussie smiled, and then leaned back. “Treasure,” he said. “Lots and lots of bloody treasure.”

  “Exactly! But, of course, Ms. Moore will protest your newfound profits should you decide to pilfer from the ancient till, if you know what I mean. I, however, want only one thing!”

  Aussie leaned forward to get within earshot. “And what’s that?”

  “I want what’s inside the tombs!”

  For a brief moment, nothing could be heard but the loud swinging of the rotors. They were all thinking the same thing but it was Butcher Boy who forwarded the question to Hall. “You want what’s inside these tombs for yourself?”

  “That’s why I funded this project!”

  “Ms. Moore is not about to allow you to do that, sir!” he said loudly. “And neither will the Istanbul Institute!”

  “Maybe Ms. Moore and her team will, unfortunately, meet with a horrible and untimely fate, just as her father did before her!”

  “You want us to take her out?”

  “When the time comes!” he shouted. “And that priest, or whatever the hell he is! We’ve been hired to protect them, which we’ll do up to a certain point. But we need her to read the texts that will show us the way to the chamber! After we find it and no longer need Ms. Moore or her team, then they are to be terminated with extreme prejudice! Is that clear, gentlemen? Whatever profits are to be had will be ours and ours alone!”

  Aussie, Butcher Boy, Red and Carroll looked at Hall with the look of men who had gladly nailed their souls to the devil’s altar.

  No one had regrets. Especially not Obsidian Hall.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Somewhere in Eastern Turkey

  When the choppers landed, they did so far enough away from anything remotely civilized. The rotors kicked up a swirling vortex of sand as a couple of shepherds stood on a small rise a distance away. After everyone had debarked, the helicopters lifted and banked to the west.

  In the distance, one of the shepherds waved. Alyssa returned the action. The second shepherd stood idle. In his hand was a tether that held a grouping of twelve camels.

  Obsidian Hall walked up to Alyssa, who was shrugging on her backpack. “Ms. Moore,” he said. “You don’t expect to get on one of those things, do you?”

  “They’re called camels,” she told him. “We need them to cross the rough terrain in order to get to the site. But if you prefer to stay here, Mr. Hall, then be my guest.”

  “Can’t we take a jeep or something?”

  “A jeep wouldn’t make it across.” She walked away from him. While the others congregated with their packs, Alyssa climbed the small rise and greeted the shepherd with a small hug. “It’s good to see you again, Adskhan.”

  The man was Lincolnesque in stature, his posture bowing with the onset of age. His beard and hair were striped with gray, and his face was fantastically seamed and weathered. “And it’s good to see you too, Ms. Moore.” His smile wilted to genuine sorrow. “Please allow me to offer my condolences regarding your father. He was a man of great honor who appreciated the history and antiquities of my country.”

  She reached out and grabbed his hand. “I miss him, Adskhan. I really do.”

  He cupped his hand over hers, patted it. “As you should,” he said.

  “I see you have our transportation.”

  He looked behind him. The shepherd holding the camels at bay was beginning to struggle with the tether. “It appears the camels are a
s anxious as you,” he told her. “So take them with my blessing. For what your father has done for the heritage my people, it is still not enough.”

  “It’s plenty,” she said, smiling faintly.

  “Then be careful.”

  “I will.”

  Adskhan waved to the second shepherd, who came forward with the caravan by tugging on the tether, guiding them forward. “For the most part they are docile creatures. They should not present a problem in your travels.”

  When the second shepherd joined them, he and Adskhan spoke in Turkish with Alyssa piecing enough of the language together in order to understand the gist of their communication. Adskhan wanted him to hand her the tether, but the second shepherd insisted that he hand it off to someone with the strength to handle ten camels. In other words: a man. She took the initiative, however, by grabbing the line from the shepherd’s hand, startling him, and pulling the train towards her team.

  When the shepherd tried to protest, Adskhan held him back, saying something about the foolishness of trying to battle the will of American women. The second shepherd cared little as he huffed away with his camel in tow, ready to leave.

  Adskhan, however, called after Alyssa. “May your journey be a safe one!” he cried.

  She waved back. “Thanks, Adskhan!” By the time she joined her group, both shepherds were gone.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hall said.

  She looked at him hard. “Seriously, Hall? Are you really that prissy?” She tossed him the tether line of his camel and walked away.

  Hall—who stared at the camel and the camel at him—considered the beast most foul. He turned quickly and called after Alyssa. “But I’ll get my pants dirty!”

  She ignored him.

  #

  Everybody with the exception of Obsidian Hall, who maintained difficulty by staying squarely on the saddle by sliding from one side to the other, enjoyed the novelty of the camel ride over rocky terrain. The clouds remained overcast and the threat of rain became a concern to those who understood that flashfloods could kill instantly. So Alyssa led them by taking the highest available ground, with Noah bringing up the rear.